The Swing
by sassyhelkat
Summary: It's based off of Witchblade, the TV series, although I do follow the comics, but it's been altered, between me and my roomie, we changed a few things, rewrote things, and this is one of my versions, part of my own story.


She was ten.   
  
She wanted a swing.   
  
He said no.  
  
"Why, sir?" the small dark haired girl whined, knowing she was in dangerous territory with her master, but she couldn't help herself. She never asked him for anything, and a swing was one thing she really wanted. She loved the weightlessness it offered, and she'd been wanting to play more and more recently, despite her training to the contrary.  
  
She'd grown up as the only child in this massive manor, and she'd performed to the best, if not better than, her master's expectations for her, which were surprisingly high, given the fact that her surrogate brother had found her in a garbage can when she was barely a few hours old. Kenneth Irons had taken her in, given her a home, raised her from infancy and had had her schooled by all the best tutors money could buy. Her surrogate brother, Ian, was training her in the arts of combat and espionage, and her master, Irons, was teaching her the ways of self discipline and control over her emotions.   
  
But none of these things could stop her from wanting that swing.   
  
"Because it does not further your training. It is useless, and you have no need of useless objects that will be obsolete to you within a week," her master intoned in a bored voice that was controlled and clipped with a high class British accent as he looked over some files, then pulled out his beloved silver pocket watch and opened it, checking the time, then closed it with a satisfied click!. If he hadn't been talking to her, one might assume he wasn't even aware of her presence.   
  
Cheska's brow furrowed as her lower lip jutted out in an accentuated pout, and she shuffled a bit as she dared to look up from the ground at the silver haired man behind the desk.  
  
"I'd use it all the time, sir, I'd never get tired of it...," she murmured back, her voice a bit stronger as she argued with him.  
  
"It is human nature to want things and then get tired of them when we receive them. It is a flaw you should do away with now, it will make you a stronger person to serve me in the end. You do want to serve me, do you not, Cheska?" he arched a silvery brow and raised his crystal blue eyes slightly to watch her reaction, and as soon as he looked up, Cheska looked back down at the ground, stirring at it softly with a toe, her hands clasped behind her back.  
  
"Yes sir...," she mumbled quietly.   
  
Kenneth watched her for another long moment, his head tipped to the side slightly as he studied her carefully, then he looked back down at the files, nodding a bit to himself.  
  
"-But I still want a swing, sir...," she whispered softly, and his head snapped up, his eyes narrowed as he regarded her, his eyes like ice now.  
  
"I have told you no, do not make me repeat myself, Cheska," he growled, his voice dangerously low as he rose from his chair, walking towards the window near her, looking out over the grounds of his manor.  
  
"I'm sorry sir...," her voice was very quiet as he moved, and, against everything inside of her that told her not to continue, to drop the topic and forget about it, she spoke in a tiny voice, "-But I don't see how a swing could be bad for me, sir..."  
  
Before she knew what had happened, he'd turned from the window and slapped her hard across her face, startling her as she squeaked and turned her head, her eyes closed and watering a bit as her cheek stung and throbbed.  
  
There was silence in the room for a long, terrible moment, and Irons watched her with cold eyes as she kept her face turned down and away from him, waiting for her to speak up again. He would not have her grow up being defiant to him. Defiance bred resentment, resentment led to rebellion, and he would not, as her guardian and ultimately, a businessman, tolerate her disobedience. This seemed to be a growing trend between her and Ian, and he would have to have a chat with young Nottingham about encouraging Cheska to speak back to him.   
  
After a long pause, he repeated himself, "Do you still want to serve me, Cheska?"  
  
"Yes, sir..."  
  
"Do you still want a child's toy that you don't need?" he continued, watching her carefully.  
  
The ten year old knew when she was defeated, and in a whimpering voice, she answered him, "No, sir."  
  
He gazed down at her for another long second, then turned back to the window and raised an arm, resting it next to his head on the window frame, his other hand pulling his pocket watch from his vest to check the time again while he intoned, "Good. Leave me. I'm busy."  
  
Promptly, Cheska turned on her heel and strode out of the room, feeling tears brim in her eyes, and she fought valiantly to keep them from spilling over.   
  
So focused on the ground and her feet, she ran smack into a rather tall, well built man in his early 20's, clad completely in black. His long, shoulder length dark hair was down, the thick loose curls framing his chiseled features, and he caught her deftly as she stumbled backwards a bit.  
  
Looking up into his eyes, Cheska couldn't keep herself from crying any longer, and as the tears started to flow over, she flung herself into Ian's arms, sobbing.  
  
"What happened?" Ian blinked, surprised, and he pulled her close, realizing that she must've finally gone to Irons to ask for the swing she kept talking about. He'd warned her not to, but she was willful, and in her mind, she'd already justified her request for it, and nothing would sway her from it.   
  
In a voice broken with hiccuping sobs, she told him in a few short words that she'd gone to Irons to ask for a swing, and he'd told her no, then she'd kept talking, and he'd hit her.   
  
"I... I know I shouldn't have, I... I just wanted a swing, Ian....," she rubbed at her eyes as she looked up into his dark brown soulful eyes.   
  
"I know, Ches, shh... C'mon, you're tired, it's time for bed...," he combed his fingers through her hair, slowly sweeping her up into his arms and headed for his room, frowning softly still and casting a glance towards Irons' office. Irons was his master as well, Ian knew it and had known it as long as he'd been alive, and he'd had to learn the same lessons Cheska was learning. It didn't make it any easier on him to watch her cry, though, and he felt his throat tighten up a bit as he saw the red mark on her cheek.  
  
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering and crying a bit still, but her tears were dwindling, and by the time he'd reached her room, she was fast asleep in his arms, completely drained, emotionally and physically.  
  
He laid her down on her bed and pulled her covers up over her, then stood and watched her for a long moment, resting the palm of his hand on her forehead for a moment, then he slowly pulled back and turned, heading for the door, checking his watch, a plan brewing in his mind.  
  
Irons left a few days later on a business trip, leaving Ian and Cheska behind at the manor. Ian had been spending more time with her, trying to keep her distracted in other ways, but it wasn't working. Irons, for his part, had managed to seem more uninterested than normal in her, speaking only to her through Ian, and refused to let her eat dinner with himself and Ian, demanding she eat before they did, away from them.  
  
For her part, Cheska didn't understand what was so wrong about wanting a swing. She wasn't asking for a whole jungle gym, just one piddly swing, something to play on during her small amount of free time when she was done with her homework and her training. She didn't think it was terrible, to want a swing, to want to play, and she just couldn't get it out of her head.  
  
Cheska was in her room, sitting on her bed and trying to study when Ian walked into the room, a small smile on his face, his head dipped down a bit as he looked up at her from under his dark brows.  
  
"Cheska, come with me, I have something to show you...," he murmured softly, and Cheska looked up, blinking a bit at him before she swung off the bed and walked to his side, her head tilted slightly, a curious look on her face.  
  
He smiled a bit wider, patting her on the shoulder, and led her out of her room and down the hall, heading for the back of the manor. She watched him inquisitively, her brows arched, and he smiled at her as he stepped aside and opened the door for her, motioning for her to go outside ahead of him.  
  
Stepping out into the sunlight, she blinked for a moment to let her eyes adjust, and when they did, she couldn't believe what she saw.  
  
A tire swing, suspended from the nearest tree by a huge rope, swayed slightly in the breeze, and she looked up at Ian, terribly surprised, "Why, Ian?" she questioned softly.  
  
"Because I went through the same thing at your age. Go on, play on it while you can, I've gotta put it back on Irons' car before he gets home in two days. I made sure your tutors went on vacation as well, so you won't have anything to worry about except this swing, ok? This is your top priority for the next 48 hours: Taking care of this swing. You just have to promise me that you won't ever tell Irons about this, and that you won't ask him for a swing again, ok?" Ian smiled at her, dipping his head low, and she stared at him for another second, before she hugged him tightly.  
  
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Ian! I won't tell anyone about this, I promise!" she giggled loudly and sprinted for the swing, jumping into it and kicked her legs, giving herself momentum and started to sway back and forth like a pendulum in a clock, almost like a countdown to the end of her blissful two days of freedom, her entire childhood being confined to 48 hours.


End file.
